


order of operations

by messwithlove



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (and frank discussions of it), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Past Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Sibling Incest, Trauma, implied 2/4/6, mentions of undernegotiated kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messwithlove/pseuds/messwithlove
Summary: Diego figured they would be just as much of a little shit in this context as they are in life, generally speaking. He just resists rolling his eyes. "I'm serious, Klaus. Come on."Klaus takes a deep breath. This feels... weird, in an itchy way — they’re so used to drawing all the wrong kinds of attention to themself that they're not sure what to do with Diego’s steady, patient gaze. They avoid Diego’s eyes, focusing on the silver line of scar tissue at the side of his head, cutting into his cheek. “My safe word is Pogo. Cute, right?”
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 9
Kudos: 88





	order of operations

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). Log in to view. 



> inspired by [this kink meme fill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18095150)
> 
> used they/them for klaus but it's not A Plot Thing

Diego puts on his Big Brother voice, tries not to overthink the fact that they’re sitting on his childhood bed at the Academy, legs crossed, knees knocking together, and. Klaus is like a fucking painting, Saint Sebastian soft and open, pretty and bruised, fading purple and yellow and blue peeking out from under the hem of their crop top, the frankly excessive rips in their jeans. “So. Stoplight or safeword?”

“Oooh, options. How generous, Di.” Klaus chews on the inside of their cheek. Smirks, a little. 

Diego figured they would be just as much of a little shit in this context as they are in life, generally speaking. He just resists rolling his eyes. "I'm serious, Klaus. Come on." 

Klaus takes a deep breath. This feels... weird, in an itchy way — they’re so used to drawing all the wrong kinds of attention to themself that they're not sure what to do with Diego’s steady, patient gaze. They avoid Diego’s eyes, focusing on the silver line of scar tissue at the side of his head, cutting into his cheek. “My safe word is Pogo. Cute, right?”

"Charming." Diego reaches across both their laps to catch Klaus' wrist, still the way they’re picking at the sheet. 

Klaus has always been shamelessly easy, but there’s something about Diego’s gentleness that makes their cheeks warm. They stop picking, recite their little spiel. “My safeword is Pogo. I don’t do stuff with bodily fluids outside of spit and come, and a little blood when the mood strikes. Hard limit on scat, soft limit on fisting. Blindfolds are okay as long as I don’t have shoes on. Humiliation is fine. I’m wearing more eyeliner than Allison does over the span of an entire week, so you can probably guess feminization is kosher, but none of that _boy pussy_ bullshit. I think that covers it?"

Diego rubs at the pale, thin skin on the inside of Klaus’s wrist. Turns their hand over, thumbs over _good bye_ , disarmingly gentle despite the calluses on his fingertips. “That’s a start,” he nods, searching Klaus’ eyes.

“A start?” Klaus laughs, brittle. “Not sure what else you want from me here, sugar. This is already the longest negotiation I’ve had before getting on my knees.”

By design — as a result of trauma, the pattern might tell — Klaus’s romantic life and their kink haven’t really intersected. To be fair, it’s not like they’ve had much of a romantic life to speak of. 

(There was Dave, and the blinding intensity of the few months they had together in A Sầu — but the occasional hand on Klaus’s throat or over their mouth during a rough fuck with not much more than spit and a few gulps of rice wine between them wasn’t quite the same as the delicate situations Klaus chased in seedy clubs back in the city, back in the present.)

Diego clenches his jaw, and for a second, Klaus thinks — hopes — maybe they’ll just... skirt around the mountain of trauma between them and just fucking get to it.

Instead, Diego shapes his words carefully, slowly. “You deserve better than that, Klaus.”

“So tender,” Klaus licks their chapped lips. “Soft leather daddy Dom.”

“Don’t like being called that,” Diego snips right back.

“Which part?” Klaus grins.

“Three guesses, and the first two don’t count. And I switch, but something about your bratty, insufferable ass tells me you probably don’t.”

Klaus almost expects Diego to bulldoze right through the assumption. There’s a long pause when he doesn’t. Klaus has never known him to listen this intently. Stab first, ask questions later. “History has taught us I’m not great at being in charge of myself, so I’m not exactly raring to take charge of my partners,” Klaus shrugs. They’re sort of holding hands, at this point, but not really. Diego’s hand hovers in theirs.

“I’ll take care of you,” Diego nods, decisive. He presses their palms together, interlocks their fingers. “During and after. I’m not fucking dropping you. I’m not doing anything you can’t consent to — not doing anything if you’re not sober. Hard limit on that one.” He squeezes Klaus’s hand.

“This might be the nicest you’ve ever been to me,” Klaus coos, but Diego doesn’t miss the pleased flush spreading down their neck.

“See what you get when you’re not a brat.” Diego brings his free hand up, scratches gently above Klaus’s ear. “‘S playing with your hair okay?”

Klaus shamelessly melts into the touch. It’s not lost on either of them that the most productive, effective conversation they’ve had in years is about having kinky sex together. They’re a long way from crowding onto Ben’s bed as teenagers with a stolen issue of some softcore porn magazine. “Uh huh. I like being held down.”

“Little rope play thrown in there?” Diego offers, tracing idle circles at Klaus’s temple.

“I know you can tie a decent knot; I wouldn’t wanna deprive you of that pleasure,” Klaus drawls, head tipped into Diego’s hand.

“But do you _like_ it?” Diego presses, tugging at Klaus’s roots. “Just ‘cause you’ve done it doesn’t mean it gets your rocks off.”

Klaus marvels, a little, at Diego’s ability to pick up on cues Klaus sometimes doesn’t even realize they’re giving. It’s jarring, being _seen_ this way: they’ve learned to expect it from Ben — Casper the nagging brother. Klaus usually prides themself in their unpredictability. “I haven’t done it since my decidedly unsexy episode of kidnapping and torture, so jury’s out, I guess,” they admit, relishing the dull ache in their scalp.

“We’re gonna put a pin in bondage for now,” Diego decides, detangling his fingers from Klaus’s hair. He thumbs along Klaus’s jawline, tips Klaus’s head back enough to give Diego a better view of their pale neck, peppered with varying shades of red bruises. “My powers of deduction tell me you’re into being marked up, right?”

Klaus grins, looks at Diego through hooded eyes. “I like mementos. Hickeys are cheap and quick, you know?”

Diego doesn’t have to look again to picture, clear in his mind, the angry red marks he’d soothed on Klaus’s back. “Is the impact play part of that?”

“Ugh, can I say something controversial yet brave?” Klaus sighs melodramatically, rolls their neck. “I feel like you go to these clubs and all everyone wants to do is _flog_ you or hit you with something. Don’t get me wrong, I get it! It’s the fantasy. The TV dominatrix in latex. But they’ll let just _anyone_ do the hitting, these days, and it’s not always great. I’d rather have a good spanking than a mediocre flogging.”

“Right,” Diego blinks. He’s pretty sure he can give a decent spanking. “I don’t really fuck with whips, so uh, you’re in the clear there.”

“Groovy,” Klaus nods. They fold their hands in their lap and cast their eyes down, keep nodding slowly like a clairvoyant bobblehead, digesting the conversation as it happens. “This doesn’t come naturally, even being as generous as I am, but uh. I’m kind of used to just accepting what’s on offer and making myself grin and bear the parts I don’t like for the sake of enjoying the ones I do. So. Thanks, Kraken dearest, for asking.”

When Klaus glances up, it’s at the tips of Diego’s ears burning red, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I know it’s — weird, asking for what you want.” They’re two sides of the same fucked up coin: one spartan and pragmatic, utilitarian and down to the most base necessities; the other an eternal 30-day sobriety chip, traded back and forth between Klaus and their case worker, excess for the sake of excess, licking over the sore of a busted lip just to feel something. “Figured I could save you the asking.”

Klaus’s nodding comes to a slow, rolling stop. They smile crookedly up at Diego, raise their hand ( _hello_ ) and give Diego’s pierced nipple a friendly flick. “Charming.”

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhh if you'd like to fight about any of this find me on twitter or tumblr


End file.
